


Obsession

by dragonnan



Category: Psych
Genre: Banter, Candy, Friendship, Gen, Gus Being Long-Suffering, Halloween, Humor, Obsessive Behavior, Shawn Being a Dork, Shawn Needs a Guardian 24/7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-08-11 19:16:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7904452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonnan/pseuds/dragonnan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shawn has a problem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Obsession

“Guugh! E'se 'sigs suck!”  
  
Gus leaped back as Shawn spit his mouthful towards the trashcan, missing by about five feet.  
  
“That's disgusting!”  
  
“You'a te'ing ne!” Shawn complained as he grabbed a wad of kleenex to wipe out his mouth – spitting and sputtering even more as the thin tissue stuck to his tongue. Now he had wadded, lotion infused tissue and the wretched taste of peanut butter taffy clinging to his teeth. Jogging across the office, he leaned over the kitchen sink and flipped on the faucet, swishing and rinsing and ignoring Gus's complaints about what he was doing to the dishes – as if they weren't dirty anyhow.   
  
“Phah!” Hacking out the spongy remnants, he eradicated the last of the foul flavor with a long swallow of root beer.   
  
Popping a mouthful of sour Nerds, Gus wandered back towards his desk and the plundered plastic pumkin bowl of candy that remained. “You know, the whole point was to give these out, right?”  
  
Reaching for his own bowl of treats, Shawn snagged another taffy and peeled the wrapper before sucking the morsel between his teeth. Instantly his lips twisted. “Bluh!”  
  
“Dude, stop eating them!”  
  
He didn't have the time to heed his friend as he leaned over his trashcan to spit out the sticky wad. “I can't! Gus, you have to help me! Here, you take them!”  
  
“No way! Those things are nasty! I told you; Mrs. Perkins only hands out crappy treats.”  
  
Shawn's hand treacherously reached for another chewy candy. “Which is why I'd suggested we bring toilet paper when we went out, but you said tricking isn't what the cool kids are doing any more.”  
  
“No, what I said was, now that your dad is on the station's payroll again I'd rather we didn't jeopardize our chances for future cases.”  
  
Outright gagging this time as he horked his latest chew into the trash, Shawn distanced himself from his candy bowl in a ploy to preserve his taste buds as well as his dinner. His fingers itched to go for the paper wrappers though, so to give them something to do, he snatched for Gus's bowl.   
  
“OW!” The back of his hand glowing red from a precise slap, Shawn slunk back towards his own desk and the addicting misery that awaited.   
  
“Come on, just one Mars bar?”  
  
“Nope.” Making a show of retrieving said bar, worse still because Shawn knew it wasn't his favorite by far, Gus slowly unwrapped the chocolaty goodness and took a slow bite – crunching the embedded nuts with exaggerated delight.  
  
“You're a jerk.”  
  
Gus closed his eyes as he chewed. “And you ate all your good candy on the way back to the office, so suck it.”  
  
“I gave you half my Goobers and a mini pack of Twizzlers on the way back to the office!” Eyebrows shooting up as he made his point, Shawn stared down his friend until Gus rolled his head sideways and sighed. Digging into the bright orange container beside him, he fished out a handful of the good stuff.  
  
Shawn caught the candy winged his way. Well, most of it – a peanut butter cup missed his fingertips and hared off across the floor along with a tiny box of Whoppers and a nut goodie. Still, he'd kept a grip on the crown jewel – a pecan Snickers bar, full size. “Dude, you're the best, man!” Ripping away the wrapper, his next comments were garbled with caramel and chocolate as he wolfed down the candy.  
  
Gus shook his head. “Just remember who had stomach cramps last year from too much sugar.”  
  
Shawn mouthed the comment snottily before diving into the package of sour gummi worms he'd also managed to snag.   
  
“And you're one to talk anyhow. Who ate a Charlston Chew, a snowball, and six hush puppies for lunch yesterday?”  
  
Back to munching Nerds, Gus curled up his lip. “I'm a player. I do this full time, son. You ain't pimp enough for this joint, please!”  
  
“Oh I'm not pimp enough!?” Stung, Shawn crammed some more comfort candy into his maw. A few bites in he felt a twist in his belly. He winced and slowed his chewing back within the speed limit. Gus, who'd knelt to peruse the remaining pile of unwatched movies, turned in time to see him rub a hand over his abdomen.  
  
“I knew it!”  
  
“What?” As if he didn't recognize that grin.  
  
“You ate too much candy, again, and now you're feeling sick – again.”  
  
“And you're being a jerk – again.” Just to make a point, Shawn unwrapped two of the nasty toffies, not even bothering to pick off the stuck bits of paper this time, and crammed them in his mouth. Unable to stop his eyes from watering, he still chewed – pausing to waggle his tongue and display the slimy, masticated remains, before swallowing the thick wad triumphantly.  
  
Gus, of course, refused to back his play. “You're an idiot.”   
  
“I am a hero, man!” Mid-triumph, Shawn groaned. Under the guiding light of Gus's gloating, he traversed a wavering path back towards the sink. He also ignored the complaints as he spat out the remaining traces or wretchedness. After a few long minutes of swishing and spitting, he held out one hand and waggled his fingers. A moment later, his warming soda slapped against his palm. Head tipped to the ceiling as Shawn guzzled down the carbonated sweetness. Only to snort and choke as fizz overwhelmed his sinuses in a rabid bubbly attack. Hiccuping through a coughing fit, he thrust the bottle away from himself – feeling Gus lift it out of his weakening grasp even as his friend sighed and muttered something along the lines of “I told you so”. Traitor.   
  
Slouching back to his desk, Shawn slumped in his chair and glared at his plastic pumpkin dispenser of nightmares. His fingertips twitched. He knew he was ruined. He was going to eat all of that candy. It was just a question of how long it would take the hospital to pump his stomach. Again.   
  
His hand reached for the bowl.  
  
Gus snatched it from the desk, walked across the room, and dumped the contents in the trash. Moving to a kitchen cabinet, he fished something from a drawer, dropped it into the bowl with a hollow clunk, and headed back to Shawn's desk. He slapped the bowl back in front of his friend.  
  
Eyebrows pushing tight across his forehead, Shawn dug out the hidden treat.  
  
“Dude, antacids?”  
  
“Hey, at least they're cherry flavor.” Gus shrugged and grinned. “Happy Halloween.”  
  
Shawn winced through another cramp. His fingertips tapped at the bottle while his eyes slid sideways – narrowing on the trashcan and weighing the risk of garbage contamination against the rising need in his self-destructive gullet.  
  
“You go near that trashcan and I'm calling your dad for another intervention.”  
  
Shawn tore off the cap of the antacid bottle and popped four of the chalky little discs that tasted like cherry filtered through antifreeze.   
  
He wondered how late old Mrs. Perkins would be staying up.


End file.
